A/N – This story began life as an idea, which grew into a one-shot, then decided to finish on a cliffhanger… Will probably be about fifteen chapters overall, from various POV, six are already written.

The title comes from the lyrics of The Kill (Bury Me) by 30 Seconds to Mars, which I listened to on repeat while writing this.

As always, lots of thanks to my lovely sister LiGi, whose betaing saves you all from my atrocious spelling.

Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds. If I did, I'd be blowing up model tower blocks, not writing fanfiction.

1

Virgil concentrated on the DOMO's controls, he could feel the fragility of the structure he was trying to move. If it wasn't for the huddle of heat signatures that the instruments had picked up, the only group in this area, they wouldn't be risking it at all. His radio crackled sharply and then quietened.

"Come in," he said into his mic hoping it was contact with John. This truly was one of the worst times for the communications system on Five to be damaged, but even John couldn't control the paths of meteors and they were lucky is hadn't struck Five head on or it would be their brother they were rushing to save.

Crackling answered him on the radio, then silence. He sighed, adjusting the levers slightly to compensate for the slight shift in the building. Another two minutes of tense silence went by. Scott didn't dare start asking questions or interrupting him when he was moving things this unstable and Gordon was occupied in his part of the rescue pulling children out of a half collapsed school. Alan was on Five, having ferried Brains there to help out John.

The crackling started again, then it cleared and a woman's voice said, "Is it working, Elliot?"

"All the pieces are back in the right order, it isn't broken." Virgil was surprised to hear a young boy's voice, sounding very much how he remembered young John.

"International Rescue, can you hear us?" The woman's voice was louder now, closer to the device, Virgil guessed. He listened for a few moments expecting Scott's voice, or John's. The woman repeated her call and Virgil realised he was the only one hearing this, he would have to respond.

"Hearing you loud and clear," he said into the mic.

"International Rescue," the woman's voice said in relief and almost disbelief.

"Yes, I'm Virgil, I'm trying to get you out." Virgil had never been in the reassuring position before, normally he just linked them back to Scott, or John through Five, but he didn't want to risk losing the connection, tenuous as it was.

"How many of you are there?" he asked, remembering this as something that was important to ask.

"Six," the woman replied.

"Is anyone injured?" He shifted the hydraulics again as the frame he was moving groaned warningly.

"Nothing serious," she said over the sound of tortured steel.

"Okay, good, I have some medic training so as soon as I get to you I'll be able to help." There was quiet for a while and Virgil wondered how he could get them to keep talking so he knew that the line was open. "Tell me about yourselves," he suggested, "What are your names?"

"I'm Charlotte," the woman who had been talking said, "Charlotte Clement, my brother Elliot is the one who fixed the phone."

Virgil heard the sound of it being passed on. "I'm Elliot Clement," the John-like boy said, "I'm nine."

"I'm twenty-seven," Virgil said, not knowing what other response to give.

"Really? Charlotte is nearly as old as you then," the boy said, a slightly cheeky tone entering his voice, before Virgil heard Charlotte's voice urging him to pass the device on.

"I'm Harrison Philips," a deeper, man's voice said next, "I'm afraid I'm not going to disclose my age to a younger man." Virgil gave a short laugh at that and heard the returning chuckle, he'd heard John talk about people's true personality coming out under stress, on the rare times John talked about rescues.

"Joseph Longmead, well, Joe," the next voice spoke.

"And Amber Chavez," a woman interrupted, "We're together." There was a happy possessiveness to her tone. Virgil nodded, not thinking that they couldn't see him.

"And I'm Anne-Marie Ryan," came an older woman's voice, "And I'm hoping that you know what you're doing son, you seem awfully young." Her imperious tone reminded him of his grandma.

"Don't worry ma'am," he smiled, "I've been trained to the highest standards."

"I should hope so," she said and then added in a gentler tone. "We'll be waiting for you, laddie."

Virgil thought he heard Amber's giggle.

Virgil felt the tracks slide as part of the ground beneath him collapsed, he revved the engine to pull himself forward avoiding the crack. All his concentration went to the equipment before him and he blocked out the chatter from the radio until he had cleared that unstable bit of ground.

"…So we thought why not have a holiday before the wedding too," he heard as the ground became more stable.

"When are you getting married then?" he asked Amber.

"Two months, I just said that… Is everything alright?"

"It's fine, I just had to concentrate on something else for a second," he said hastily to try and stop that note of panic in her voice.

"If we are distracting you from your work, perhaps we should stay silent," Harrison suggested.

"No." Virgil shook his head. "It's never nice to be sitting silently waiting for rescue."

"You speak from experience," the older man said perceptively.

"Oh I've been in your situation," Virgil said. Not quite, he corrected himself mentally, I knew Scott was coming for me, no matter what, these people have to trust and hope.

"Is that how you recruit people?" Joe asked curiously, "You get rescued and then offered a place in your organisation?"

"Not quite," Virgil said, "But it's not one of those jobs you can apply for at career day."

"How do they choose you then?" Elliot asked.

"I was in the right place at the right time," Virgil said half truthfully, "And I had the right skill set."

"What sort of skills do you need?" the boy asked eagerly, just like John when he discovered something to analyse.

"The whole team's different," Virgil answered truthfully. There was no harm talking to these people about his brothers, as long as he didn't reveal their family link or true identities. "I'm mechanical and very good at driving different machines, I learnt on my Granddad's farm. But one of the other men is an aquanaut and expert on sea-life, there is the genius who designs our machinery and we have another genius in communications, he speaks at least twelve different languages, and by that I mean properly speaks them, the number he can 'get by in' is staggering, to me anyway, I scraped through French and Spanish in school. There's a NASA trained astronaut on the team and a competitive driver," he didn't mention that they were one and the same. "One of us was Air force, one English aristocracy and one was a bank robber, it's a very mixed team."

"It sounds it," Harrison said with another deep chuckle.

Virgil looked through the DOMO's narrow windows, seeing the neon yellow marker ahead. Scott had dropped a paint-bomb – as Gordon termed the markers dropped from Thunderbird One – at the point where they had detected the heat signatures. He would have to stop the machines and get out to find the best way down to the survivors.

"Good news, I'm getting closer to you," Virgil reassured them, "Shouldn't be long now."

Suddenly the radio bleeped insistently and the connection switched to Scott's terse voice.

"Another aftershock coming, big one. Brace yourself, Virge."

Virgil felt the colour drain from his face. "Quick, if there is somewhere you can shelter that looks studier all get under there now!" he shouted into the comm.

The radio went silent and Virgil couldn't tell if they'd heard him or not.

He quickly shut down the DOMO's engines.

Ten painfully long seconds of silence.

And then the shock hit.